Down Poison
by Acharya
Summary: Free from the Lich King, but unable or perhaps unwilling to return to the Alliance, Tial makes a plea for safe haven among the Horde and finds that sometimes a home is found amongst enemies, if you're willing to fight and bleed for it.
1. Chapter 1

Down Poison

I don't own World of Warcraft or anything familiar you may see here.

Summery: Tial is free from the Lich King's control but when told to return to the Alliance she refuses. Instead she makes a plea to join the Horde and finds that sometimes a home is found amongst enemies, if you're willing to fight for it.

Notes: Cheesy summery is...cheesy. I'll have to work on it.

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Prologue

Birth

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This part of the Plaugelands was an ugly depressing sight, to be sure. Everything in it was dead or tainted beyond recognition. The trees held no leaves and their branches knotted together as if the trees were huddling together for protection. The grass was a strange orange color, matching the sky overhead, and the few animals they'd seen as they'd ridden had all be...wrong. Large maggots the size of a sabercat, albino deer with glowing green eyes, and huge gargoyles flapping overhead had all made Tamaalia question her choice to come along, though it was much too late to protest now.

Tamaalia rode her horse, fatigue beginning to set it. She longed for her Elekk and the large comfortable compartment she rode in when she was on it, but her traveling companions had thought it would be too 'conspicious' and so she was on a horse instead. It was a small animal, it honestly made her nervous to ride since she was certainly no dainty human woman, and her hooves dangled dangerously close to the ground. Beyond that the saddle was uncomfortable and the leather was chaffing her tail.

Hopefully they would finish this little expedition soon. She'd been at Chillwind camp when a band of adventures had asked if she'd accompany them into the next territory over to investigate rumors of Scourge roaming about. She'd been hesitant, not sure she was ready for something so potentially dangerous, but they had insisted they were in need of a healer. More than they they claimed to have been sent by the King himself and she'd been unable to deny that doing a deed for the King would make her and her people look good. The Draenei were still very new to the Alliance and finding a place among their new fellows.

Maybe these adventures would find her skills in the Light, which were certainly considerable, and invite her to their guild. She had so far gone about her tasks solo, but had hoped to be noticed by one of the groups that fought for and protected the Alliance. Tamaalia had heard how belonging to one could make life easier, as you could companions to aid you in your tasks. She longed for a group to belong to, for friends.

She had her sisters, Esmaalia and Kamaalia, but both had struck out on their own tasks after they'd left Bloodmyst. Esme had gone to train with the Human Paladin order and Kama...well, Tamaalia wasn't sure where her youngest sister had gotten off to.

"Halt." The Dwarf warrior who seemed to be the leader of the group held up his hand. Everyone stopped, though it took Tamaalia a moment because of how unused she was to the horse. The Dwarf cast a look at her and the Draenei woman felt her cheeks look; he looked at her with the fond exasperation one might grace a child with.

She was used to those looks by now, having received them often from the denizens of this world. They thought her young and naive because of her appearance, and she didn't feel the need to correct them. She wasn't old, by any stretch, having been born on the Exodar during it's travels, but she was well trained in both healing and using the Light offensively, though she'd never harmed another living thing. Not physically, at least. She had been one of the top Priestess in her group, surpassing those much older than she was.

It was her unwillingness to do harm that made those around her assume that she was a child; they were battle hardened and war was something that had been hanging over their heads for a very long time; someone who preferred to defend others but do no harm was surely just too young to know better..

The Night Elf hunter swung off of his mount, making a gesture for the saber to stay. He crept off of the road, blending into the shadows cast by the large dead trees there. The large black wolf the hunter kept as a pet followed and it too seemed to simply melt from sight. The Warrior leaned forward in his saddle, eying the patch of trees expectantly.

There was a rustling and then a shout, followed by gunshots. Tamaalia frowned and jumped down for the horse, cringing at the pinpricks of pain that ran up and down her legs as soon as hooves touched the ground. The Warrior looked over at her again, eyes narrowed slightly. He opened his mouth, probably to scold her, but was cut off as a large blur came darting from the underbrush, headed straight for Tamaalia.

She shrieked and threw her hands up to defend herself; a protective barrier shimmered to life around her body. The blur crashed into it, bouncing back and hitting the ground with a pained 'oomph'. Tamaalia drew in a deep breath, eyes wide in fear as she took in the body at her feet.

It was a troll, or at least she was pretty sure it was. She'd only seen them in pictures and heard them described by others and while this being was similar, he lacked the razor sharp talons and mouth that dripped with fangs and blood she'd come to expect. He didn't look very monstrous or much like a rabid man eating animal at all.

Then again, she'd found that the people on this planet were prone to exaggeration when it came to their enemies.

The sprawled form was large, taller in fact that the males of her race, but had none of the bulk she was used to in men. He had dark blue skin, a shade or two lighter than her own perhaps, and bright red hair, which was arranged in a limp mohawk. He was injured, spilling blood onto the dusty road. Tamaalia frowned and stepped forward, natural desire to heal overriding her fear.

"What're you doing lass?" That warrior was on the ground as well, sword drawn. "Don't get any closer to da beastie."

Tamaalia scowled, a rare flash of anger hitting her. "He's hurt!"

"Of course." The elf slipped back out of the trees, gun pointed on the troll. "I never miss."

The troll ground something out that Tamaalia didn't understand, though it sounded angry and harsh enough that she got the feeling it wasn't very nice. She shook her head, dark brown curls bouncing around her face.

"I can't just let him bleed to death."

The warrior stared at her, expression bemused. "No need. We'll just kill him clean and continue on."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. He couldn't possibly be serious, could he? She could understand capturing the troll, perhaps taking him back to Stormwind for questioning, but killing him? And it wasn't even a fair fight; there were 5 of them against one Troll; surely he didn't stand much of a chance. She knew a thing or two about the slaughtering of helpless people, even if she only knew it through stories and history lessons, and she couldn't be party to such a thing.

"No." She said, doing her best to keep her voice from quavering with her anger. She moved with slow deliberateness, placing her body between the injured Troll and her party.

The warrior just looked furious now. He made a motion and the last two member of the party, a human mage and human warlock, dismounted as well. They were all staring at her, expressions varying degrees of angry, and she swallowed nervously, suddenly wondering if she'd made a terrible mistake. A look back at the troll and the spreading blood around him and her resolve strengthened. There was no sense in killing one who was already defeated; she was sure her teachers would have agreed with her.

She made a gesture with her hand, using not her natural magic but the gift of light all of her people carried, and pushed healing magic into the troll.

A look back at her party and she saw both the mage and the warlock had fire magic beginning to coalesce in their palms. The warrior was holding his sword in hand, though his shield was still strapped to his back. The hunter had lowered his weapon, looking between the two groups with a blank expression.

"Can't we talk-"

"Last chance girlie." The warrior said, cutting off the hunter.

"I said NO!" She screamed the last part, projecting her fear and fury outward. It hit them and as one they began to tremble, crushed under the weight of her emotion, which was magnified by her magic. It was the little bit of shadow she allowed herself to delve into, and was probably the worst a priest could do. They would be like that for a while, possessed by her fear and unable to think or act.

"Ya are foolish wooman." A large hand grasped her arm and forced her to turn and come face to face with the man she'd defended.

He had picked himself up, though his wounds were still oozing slightly, and though he stood with a hunch he towered over her. She started to draw back, not having another scream in her at the moment, but he held fast. His tusks gleamed in the sickly orange light of the sky and his eyes were a strange shade of green; his gaze seemed to burn through her and for one wild moment she was sure he could see right to the depths of her soul.

She gasped under the intensity of his gaze, insides twisting with fear and maybe with something that wasn't fear. He was close, so close that she could feel the blazing heat radiating from his body. She could feel sweat beginning to prickle her forehead and tore her gaze from his face, scrambling mentally.

"Y-You speak common." She blurted, unable to think of something better. Behind them the female mage whimpered, Tamaalia's scream causing havoc in her mind.

"Ya heal me. Silly ta do." His words were halting, clearly he was no expert in the common tongue but then neither was she. He paused for a moment, clearly searching for something in his mind then: "Ya friends will not be pleased."

"I suppose not." She was acutely aware of her own accent and how the tongue of her allies twisted in her mouth, sounding heavy and strange.

"Ya aught to leave dis place. Bad place, abandoned by the Loa."

Tamaalia didn't know what the Loa were but didn't feel it prudent to ask. Instead she nodded rapidly, realizing that he'd all but said he was going to be letting her go. Not that she was afraid of death, she was confident that even without the power for a scream she could keep herself alive and escape is the situation called for that. She wouldn't fight if she could avoid it, but she also wouldn't lay down and die.

He let go of her arm, thick fingers lingering over the exposed skin there, then stepped back. He faded right before her eyes and, as far as she could tell, was gone. A rogue then. She'd met a few in her time, though it wasn't a calling her people were involved with, and they tended to be intense and brutal people.

She turned back to her former companions, considering the situation then shrugged slightly before heading back to her horse. They'd be fine like that; the paralyzed state would wear off in about an hour or if they were attacked, whichever happened first, and she was sure that between the four of them they'd be able to defend themselves without a healer.

And even if they couldn't, she doubted they would want her help.

She mounted up then carefully turned the horse to face the way she'd came. She dug her knees into it's side (a more complicated act for a Draenei than most would think) and took off down the dirt road, eager to be ride of the place.

She probably wouldn't be out until late the next evening at best, as it's taken an entire day to get in this far and she'd probably have to stop for the horse to rest, but she wanted distance between her and the group. They wouldn't be pleased when they come out of their nightmarish state and the further away she was the better she'd feel.

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She blinked and looked around, feeling strange. Or...she thought she felt strange. She wasn't sure how she normally felt...wasn't sure or anything, really. She was on her knees in front of a large man in glowing blue armor, his empty blue eyes staring at her intently. She met his gaze, a rush of rage welling up inside of her.

"Where am I?" _Who am I?_

He smiled. "I can taste your anger."

She growled, pushing herself to her feet. She was unsteady, but didn't allow herself to falter. Something was inside her, she could feel it now, dark and waiting. It sparked at her acknowledgment, unfurling and filling her up. It was cold and yet felt as amazing as a lover's embrace, wrapping around her and cradling her almost gently. It beckoned soft even as it set her body on fire. She gasped at the mixture of pain-pleasure setting her nerves on fire then threw her head back, unable to stop a giggle from escaping her lips.

It was exquisite and though she couldn't remember having felt anything before this moment she knew, just knew, that there could be nothing better than this.

"What is...this? I must have more." She turned her eyes back to the man, who nodded approvingly.

"Place upon it the trappings befitting a herald of Arthas."

A robbed figure scurried forward, clothing in it's hands. She looked down at herself, noting that she was totally nude and yet feeling no shame. Something niggled in the back of her mind, a feeling that she should be bothered, but she hastily dismissed it.

She was dressed quickly, in heavy robes that felt as if they may have been plate but moved and hugged her curves as if they were cloth. She pulled the hood up, horns finding two holes to slide into, then turned back to the man. The darkness was still there, flowing inside of her, but now there was something else, something like hunger. It craved something, what she wasn't sure, but still she knew that it wanted to be sated. It was small, just slightly uncomfortable, but she somehow knew there was more than that to it.

"Come. You will forge a blade then meet with our master."

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And so we have the birth of Tial. The truth of what happened to our sweet, well meaning but kind of stupid Priest will be revealed later. I myself am all Alliance all the time, but alas, Tial has a weakness for those Troll men and their...voodoo, and would probably be happier among the Horde.

Too bad the Horde probably won't have much love for her.

Leave thoughts and reviews, even if you think this is a stupid story (which it may be. Still not sure how I can make this work.).


	2. Chapter 2

Down Poison

I don't own World of Warcraft or anything familiar you may see here.

Notes: In the previous chapter I said Taamalia was born on the Exodar. This is, of course, impossible since she isn't an infant. I've since gone back and changed it so that she was born on Draenor, shortly before her people fled from the Demon Blood crazed Orcs. If I've got my math/timeline right that would put her at, roughly, 80. Very very young by Draenei standards.

Sorry about the gap between bits. Got into the Diablo Beta, then the Mists Beta and forgot my life.

Tial: Tea-All

Dazin'Kal: Dah-Zine-Call

Rosen'Kal: Rose-in-Call

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Chapter One

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She leaned against the stone railing, considering the deep orange sky the stretched out over the land. The sight of it caused a heavy weight to settle in her stomach. It was wide open, unobstructed, and seemed to go on forever but, at the same time, it was ugly and strange.

It provided a strange parallel to the state she found her life in. The Lich King had fled after the confrontation at Light's Hope and the surviving Death Knights had taken control of Acherus from their former masters still loyal minions. It was now Highlord Mograine who stood as their leader, a unifying figure for all of them to rally behind if they chose to.

The last part, if they chose to, was the most important part. They had their will back and could make their own choices. There futures were their own to shape and control; no longer were they the pawns of their Master with only the illusion of freedom.

Then again, what was out there for them? They were a small army of living corpses, some of them with no idea of who they had been and others haunted by the memories of their lives before. They were animated by the darkest magic; they had no heartbeats, drew no air, and their bodies were all cool to the touch. They were monsters...was there a place in the world for monsters?

Maybe. Mograine was arranging for them, all of them, to return to their former factions to fight in the Outlands against the demons out there. This, he claimed, was where they would prove they were more than the Lich King's puppets, more than murderers and depraved torturers. They would atone for what they had done by helping to save their world.

She couldn't deny that the thought of going out and fighting the Burning Legion appealed to a part of her she couldn't quite grasp. Well...it appealed to all of her really. She was excited at the prospect of using her axes to tear into the demons she was sure to find out there, wanted nothing more than to cause pain and spill blood, but it was more than that. She wanted, or some strange buried part of her wanted, to help. Wanted to protect and to...

"Hey girl."

She blinked then looked to her side, unable to stop a soft smile at the sight of the human standing next to her. A fellow Death Knight who had regained all of her memories; she said her named had been Sofi and that she'd been a warrior. She was married and had a young daughter and teenage son; she lived in the Wetlands but had been traveling to Light's Hope Chapel with her son, who wanted to be a Paladin, when they'd been swarmed by ghouls. She'd fought, ordering her son to run a head and find help. Sofi had said, face taking of a softness not often seen amongst their 'kind' that she'd known she would die and that she hadn't minded; her life had been a good once after all.

She envied Sofi in a way. She didn't have that assurance, that knowledge that she'd lived and died well. All she had were flashes, bits and pieces of a life that barely gave her a name to call her own, let alone a sense of well being. Worse than that really, what she could recall left her empty and disturbed.

"Tial? You in there?" Sofi said the name like 'Teal' and it brought another small smile to her lips. She didn't think it was her 'real' name, the name she'd had before her death, but she'd heard something like it in her dreams and so she'd taken it on.

"Yes Sofi."

Sofi smiled and placed a gentle hand on her elbow. "You ready? The portals are going to open soon."

Sofi was eager to return to the Alliance and her family but knew that Tial was far less thrilled and so had been trying to bring her around. Sofi was older, by human standards, with gray beginning to streak the pale yellow of her hair and so seemed to fall into the role of caregiver easily. She'd comforted some of the others as their memories returned and so was well thought of among them.

"I bet someone is waiting for you." Sofi nudged her slightly, voice low and conspiratorial, as if they were sharing a secret. Tial just blinked at her. "That thing you're wearing around your neck, of course."

Tial's hands reached up, moving of their own accord, and touched the small round object sitting against her throat. After the Lich King had fled and his loyal minions turned out, the necromancers who had sided with them had gone about returning the things that had been found on or around their bodies. For Tial that had been a dirty torn robe, a pack full of mana water, ore, and gems, and this strange pendant. It had been hanging from a scrap of leather, small and out of place among her things.

It was a metal cage, perhaps made of silver, with a small rounded piece of bleached bone inside. It wasn't a remarkable piece in the least and when she'd first bound it around her neck all she could think was that it didn't suit her at all. But she wore it anyway, strangely reluctant to remove it once it'd been in place.

"That's not something a woman gets herself Tial. Looks like something a man gave you to remember him by."

"Maybe." Tial said, eyes going back to the sky. Sofi hovered at her side a moment longer but, as an excited mummer rippled through their fellows she wandered away to talk to some of the others. Tial didn't mind and imagined that the other woman could tell that she needed to be alone right now.

She didn't recall much, and maybe she never would, and maybe it was better that way because the one thing she was sure of haunted her, constantly floating in the back of her mind like an angry specter.

"_Leave the trollwhore." A scornful female voice spat, acid lacing each word. _

"_Forgefire." A male voice, concerned and urgent, drifted in her swimming consciousness. The world was black and made of only sounds. "We can't just leave her here." _

"_Why cannae we?" This voice was harsh and booming, hurting her ears. She groaned softly and for a moment an unnatural silence, as if everyone was holding their breathes, fell over her. Then: "We have work to do and it dinna involve lugging traitorous Trollsluts around. She'll be dead before we can get her to help either way." _

She raked her fingers through her hair, dark strands curling around her fingers. She thought she remembered shining auburn curls from before, but her rebirth had changed her, as it did all Death Knights to varying degrees. It was now pin straight and a dark brown, almost black, with a red sheen over it. She was sure other things were different but she couldn't call a full image of herself before to compare against.

She wasn't the person she'd been before, but she still felt chained by it.

'Trollslut' echoed in her ears and it invoked a strange anger in her. Is that who she had been before; scorned by her allies for her preference for the enemy? Did she lay with trolls often, often enough to earn that reputation, and would it haunt her even now? Or had she loved a troll before and left the Alliance willingly; perhaps there was someone still alive among the Horde for her to return to. Maybe she's strayed once, an act of...lust she believed was the right word, and carried that taint forever?

None of those rang quite right to her but how would she know what was right and what wasn't? She was in a constant state of confusion, questioning everything around her.

She longed for the icy void of nothingness at times. Before, when she'd been controlled by their former master, she'd felt nothing and it had been much easier. It was plain to Tial why nearly half of their number had, once given back their free will, had chosen to end their lives. She was sure that, with time, more of the Death Knights would follow that path.

Eventually it was her turn to come before their leader and then be on her way. They were to go before their factions respective leaders, with the backing of the Argent Crusade, and there would be an official ceremony as they were accepted to the Horde and Alliance.

"Tial." Mograine voice was, much like the man himself, larger than life. "You are ready?"

"I would prefer to not rejoin the Alliance. I...perhaps I could remain here and serve you."

Glowing blue eyes narrowed at her. "It would be unwise to remain here. There are few ways to sate your needs, that is why it will stand as a haven for all Death Knights, but not as a home."

She hesitated for a moment, gaze darting to the two men flanking Mograine. Koltira Deathweaver, who would speak for the Death Knights among the Horde and Thassarian, who would represent them for the Alliance. They both stared at her with glowing blue eyes, cold and dark power radiating from them.

Her eyes flickered back to Mograine as she steeled herself against the strange emotions that lurked within her. "I believe I may have been a traitor to the Alliance."

Meaningful looks that she couldn't read were exchanged between the three men before Mograine addressed her, voice echoing hollowly.

"Death Knights bare considerable burdens that will impact how we fit into the world now. Not just what we've done under Arthas' command, but who we were before." He paused for a moment, eyes boring into her with something that was almost sympathy. "We cannot run from our pasts Tial, no matter what they were."

She bristled, a flash of anger loosening her tongue. "I cannot run from what I barely remember, but I also cannot believe I have a place with a faction who's people called me a trollslut and left me to die."

She could feel the chill that lurked inside of her reaching out, stealing the heat from the air as tendrils of ice crept along the stone floor, snaking out from under her feet. It hungered, wanting the warmth and life force that only the living could offer, and her emotion made it hard to control. Mere weeks ago she had been the master of the Chill, but now it was constant internal battle and there were moments when she doubted she would be the ultimate winner.

"Control yourself." It wasn't so much Koltira's commanding tone that made her reign the Chill back in as it was the way he flexed his power in response to her's, shadows seeming to grow and reach out for her. She hissed but relented, forcing her body to relax.

The ice on the floor cracked then receded, crawling back to her. Koltira relaxed as well and offered her a small, hollow smile. She liked him, as much as she liked anyone really, and Tial thought he had become almost fond of her because of her role in rescuing him. She knew that he and Thassarian were close, so close that the human had defied their former master to rescue the elf and had enlisted Tial's aid to do so.

It had gone well and when the two men had stood before her, thanking her for her help, she'd felt her first flash of emotion. It had been a strange warm feeling that spread through her and made her feel...lighter. That night she'd had her first dream, images of two Draenei girls with shining auburn hair and soft brown eyes. She couldn't put names to them, but she knew that thinking of them made a strange heavy pressure settle onto her chest.

Sorrow, perhaps.

"You will come with me." Koltira said after a thoughtful pause. "To Orgrimmar."

Tial's stomach dropped.

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Dazin'Kal saw her walking through the streets, shoulder to shoulder with the other Death Knights. Everyone knew that the Death Knights, the former puppets of the Lich King, were coming to the city today and so the streets were crammed with people straining to see the former heroes. It was tense; some waited in hopes of seeing lost loves or family and others waited to see the ones who'd taken people from them. Trolls, orcs, blood elves, and tauren all stood, crammed against each other, waiting.

Guards were there as well, weapons at the ready to protect the Knights if violence broke out, thought Dazin'Kal knew they weren't happy about it. His brother, Rosen'Kal was one of those guards and had whined and complained all morning before shuffling off. Dazin'Kal felt for him, but was also glad to not be out there, glad in full ceremonial armor underneath the beating sun.

Being a rogue had it's perks, for sure. Vol'Jin trusted him, even considered Dazin one of his greatest assets, but the nature of the work he did often did kept him far from the public eye and far from that annoying 'War Hero' title.

Today he was just one of the masses, standing between an orc woman clutching a toddler and a blood elf man wearing a dark expression. Dazin had seen him and knew a potential issue when he saw one, so had sidled up next to him just in case. Rosen would call it paranoia but he liked to think that all of his time creeping around and dancing with death had made him attentive.

It was here, while keeping one eye on the blood elf, that he saw her. She stood out like...well, like a Draenei in a pack of members of the Horde. She was tall, roughly the height of a troll woman, and such a dark blue that she was nearly black, with dark reddish-brown hair fixed into a tight braid, which fell down to the small of her back. She was clad into dark robes, which molded to fit her form perfectly, clinging to the ample curves and tiny waist, and two axes dangled from her belt. She drew attention, a wave of discussion and confused shouts moved over the crowd.

She looked around as she walked with her fellows, glowing blue eyes giving away nothing. Then, with almost no warning, something flew through the crowd and she put her arm up, deflecting a rotten piece of fruit. It was followed by another and then another, all aimed at the group of Death Knights, as angry shouts rang out.

"Monsters!"

"Animals!"

"String them up!"

"Alliance filth!" This cry was directed at her but if she noticed she gave no sign. In fact she seemed oblivious to everything, save stopping garbage from pelting her, as her eyes continued to scan the crowd.

Was she looking for him?

She went with the rest of the Death Knights into Grommash Hold and it wasn't long after that that the crowd began to disperse, partly because there was nothing more to see and partly at the insistence of the guards. He waited until most of the crowd was gone, save a few who seemed intent on waiting, then made his way to his brother.

"You saw dat Draenei girl mon?" Dazin'Kal asked, keeping his voice low.

"How could I miss her? He removed his helm, an ornate feathered thing he'd never wear into battle, and tucked it under his arm. Rosen was taller, a bit more muscular, and a deep mossy green color, with long red hair he wore in dreads, each with handcrafted bone beads on the bottom. "I dink the crowd was so shocked dey forgot to riot."

"That's the girl from the Plaugelands." Dazin'Kal was a master of deception and doubletalk but when it came to Rosen there wasn't much call to mince words. Better to get to the point.

His brother stared down at him, dark green eyes widening slightly. "Dat's the girl? I thought you ditched me to make sure she got out of the Plaugelands okay."

Dazin nodded slowly, mind drifting back to last time he'd seen her. He'd been worried about the girl who'd saved him so, after making sure that Rosen would be okay without him had set out to track her. He'd meant to only keep an eye on her, repay the favor she'd done to him by making sure none of the ghouls he knew were roaming about would get too close.

Trolls weren't necessarily known for their honor, what with most people thinking of cannibalistic bloodthirsty and heartless savages when the thought of them (not an unearned reputation), but Dazin'Kal had been part of the Horde long enough for the notions of orcs to rub off of him. If someone risked their life to save you it was only right to return that favor, least you be in their debt.

What he'd meant to do and what had actually happened had ended up...vastly different.

_He stared down at her, unable to stop the uncharacteristically soft smile that touched his lips. He'd stayed awake the entire night, even though his better judgment told him he'd need sleep if he intended to return to the Warchief with his findings today, and he'd spent most of that time watching her sleep. She was beautiful, a sentiment he had never associated with a woman of the Alliance races before. _

_Oh, he'd had a few romps with rebellious night elves in his time (But really, who hadn't?) and even a human woman once, but he didn't think of them as beautiful, or even that impressive. Night elves, much like blood elves, were a bit thin and willowy for his personal taste; they had that air of delicateness about them that made him hold back. And humans...well that had been more for a story to tell his friends and, of course, he wasn't the sort to turn down a willing female of any race. _

_He'd thought, with that small build and tiny waist, he'd have to be careful with her like he did the elves he'd been with, but in the end she'd showed her teeth (some of which were surprisingly sharp) and proven there was strength in her. _

_He brushed a strand of auburn hair back from her face, tucking it under her ear, and watched the way she furrowed her eyebrows in response to the contact, before her face smoothed out again. Her lips were full and pursed in sleep, the deep red stain having long since been wiped away, and long dark eyelashes brushed over blue skin. _

_The sun was coming up and he needed to go, should have gone last night, but even now he was hesitant to leave her. He told himself he didn't want to leave her alone, vulnerable, where anything or anyone could get at her and that he was just repaying the favor for the evening before, but he knew that he didn't normally spend the night looking over those he owed a favor. _

_He ran a finger along her nose, watching it wrinkle and twitch, then rolled away from her and to his feet. He was dressed, having put his clothes back on in some point during the night, but she wasn't. She made a soft protesting noise and, before he could realize what he was doing, he was throwing his cloak over her body to keep her warm._

_One eye cracked open, honey brown with flecks of orange, and stared up at him. "Morning?" _

"_I have to go." She blinked both eyes open now and sat up slightly, pulling his cloak tighter around her body. "Ya be careful now woman."_

"_I could say the same to you. After all, I protected you." She lifted her chin slightly, haughty expression in place. _

"_But ya foolish enough to share your body with the enemy." She smirked at him, clearly unashamed, and Dazin'Kal decided he liked her. _

_She looked down at herself, apparently noticing for the first time what she was holding around herself, and started to pull it away. He watched, a flicker of desire stirring as expanses of blue came uncovered. Shoulder, collar bone, the top curve of her breast. Here she paused, eyebrows lifting slightly. _

"_You're staring very hard. Perhaps I should keep this; I wouldn't want to distract you from leaving." _

_It didn't take much to get her on her back, legs spread for him, and cloak pushed up over her thighs so it wouldn't come between them. He sank into her, hot and wet around him, and she breathed a moan against his ear. _

_The first time had been hard and frantic, with her pressed up against a tree and clawing at his back. This time he went slower, drawing it out even as the sun began to crest on the sky and move over the small camp. She gasped and squirmed, begging for more, faster, harder and he muttered her name into her neck. Her hands were in his hair then on his shoulders, holding him closer as she lifted her hips to meet his. _

_When she came she did it with a jerk and a shout; he felt the strip of leather around his neck snap and then fall away from him. It was a distant concern however, he was too wrapped up in the feel of her shivering around him, and he drove himself harder into her. _

He'd left her in the camp, not thinking of the pendant until he was in the Undercity. In the end he'd decided that losing the trinket was worth the night he'd spent with her and put it, and her, more or less out of his head. He thought of her occasionally, mostly at night when he had to go to bed alone, but not much beyond that. He hadn't expected to see her again.

And he certainly hadn't expected to see her a Death Knight, one of the risen dead. He'd thought, when he'd left her, that she would finish the trip to one of the Alliance Flight Masters and be on her way to safety but clearly that hadn't happened.

Something had gone wrong and now she was dead. Undead. He'd meant to watch out for her, to return the favor, but it was obvious he'd failed.

"Ya going to talk to her?"

Dazin hesitated, not sure what he was going to do. He could easily go about his business and never come across her; the city was huge and he was never here long; only to report in to Vol'jin and Thrall before heading back out. Seeking her out was unlikely to do him any good.

He would need information before he did anything. He didn't like getting into things blindly.


End file.
